you see her eyes
by ncfan
Summary: -Gothel, The Queen- Two women under an awning while the rain falls on Corona.


**Summary**: Two women under an awning while the rain falls on Corona.**  
>Author's Note<strong>: In which Gothel nearly has a heart attack.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Tangled.

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><p>Gothel, despite having lived for centuries on and on, had never had a child. When she was young she had turned the heads of every man to look upon her but something had kept them at arm's length. She was uncanny and she and they all knew it. She was eerie and they knew it. Even with the eeriness that always made the others of her village wary of her, Gothel had a charisma that none could deny. The village's apothecarymidwife/wise woman could ensnare anyone she wanted to.

But Gothel could never be bothered to put two decades worth of time and resources into raising a child. She had no interest in children before Rapunzel, and her interest in Rapunzel wasn't necessarily only for the girl herself. Therefore, she had had no idea how quickly a ten-year-old girl could outgrow her clothes.

Well, she can't just let Rapunzel run around in too-small dresses or, Heaven forbid, stark naked. With the former option, Rapunzel might not notice right now that she's outgrown her clothes but she would soon and it would get uncomfortable very quickly. For the latter, knowing how luck tends to run Gothel's sure that if she let Rapunzel wander naked she'd likely catch cold and die within a week and, well, that would be the end of Rapunzel _and_ Gothel. And truth be told, Gothel doesn't want to lose either her youthful beauty or return to the solitude she endured before Rapunzel became hers.

And if Gothel has to buy several bolts of cloth to make new dresses for Rapunzel, she won't garb her in scratchy wool or inferior cloth. No, Gothel thinks she can do a bit better than that.

That's what brings her to the capital of Corona, despite the fact that it's pouring down rain (well, to be fair it didn't start raining until she got there, even though it was overcast even when Gothel left the tower, hoisted down on Rapunzel's rich gold hair) and despite the fact that it is the stronghold of the King and Queen.

_Rapunzel's parents_, Gothel thinks to herself. Then, beneath her dark cloak hood she shakes her head furiously. _No! I am her only parent. I am the one who has fed and clothed her. I have loved her. I have held her as my own. I am her mother, not that distant fairytale woman who sits in high towers and runs her spinning wheel, not that jeweled silk-and-velvet woman who toasts courtiers and casts her eyes above their heads._

_What sort of impersonal mother would that woman have made?_

Gothel sighs as she stands under the deep straw awning of a closed stand and watches the rain run in rivulets down the slope of the cobblestone high street. She'll have to stay the night and hope Rapunzel's fine with the cured ham she left behind in case she didn't get back before suppertime.

"Excuse me." A soft voice sounds at Gothel's left ear and she nearly jumps out of her skin, heart pounding wildly. Her pale gray eyes shoot to her left and there stands a woman in a dark blue cloak, hood drawn over her face. "May I stand under this awning with you until the rain lets up?"

Gothel fixes a gracious smile to her face. "Certainly." At the same time, she reaches her hand into her skirt until she feels the reassuring coolness of her dagger hilt and keeps her fingers fixed around the jeweled hilt. The likelihood that this young woman is a threat to her is minimal, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared and Gothel doesn't think she can bring herself to trust anyone, not anymore.

For a few minutes, they are silent. Gothel has nothing to say to this woman—she merely wishes to get what she needs and get out of the city with as little fuss and time lost as possible—and the newcomer has nothing to say to her either.

Then, it occurs to Gothel that not starting to talk to this woman might be seen as suspicious, and once again smiles a sweet, gracious smile to the young woman. "I have to admit, when I came looking for cloth, I didn't expect a downpour."

"Nor did I," the woman admits ruefully. "I was looking for more scarlet thread for my ladies and I." Gothel can catch the outline of a grimace as the woman's eyes trace the fall of the rain. "I hope I'll be able to return home before my husband notices I'm gone; my health has not been superlative of late and he doesn't like it when I venture out alone." She laughs nervously.

_So she's a noblewoman._ Gothel's eyes narrow. Come to think of it, the woman's inflection is decidedly genteel, even if it is far more familiar and friendly than Gothel ever expected the voice of a lady to be, especially towards her.

The young noblewoman says something Gothel doesn't quite catch over the sound of her own thoughts and Gothel shoots an appropriately absent smile at her in apology. "I'm sorry, Madame, I didn't quite catch that?"

An understanding, slightly impersonal—_Ah, _there's_ the aristocratic self-importance I was looking for_—smile comes over the lady's face. "Are you buying the cloth to make a new dress?"

Gothel nods, and decides to tell the truth. What can it hurt? This woman has no idea who she is or where she lives. "Yes, for my daughter."

At the mention of the word "daughter" some shadow transforms the noblewoman's cowled face. Her smile waves slightly. "Your daughter?" She says it almost to herself, and Gothel knows she wasn't meant to hear it. That wavering smile becomes distinctly wistful. "I had a daughter, once."

From that, Gothel assumes she's referring to a late miscarriage or a child lost from some malady. Her lip curls slightly. _I can not stand a parent's sentimentality on the subject of children._

The lady turns to Gothel and, eyes shut, smiles. "You must cherish your daughter greatly to venture out into the rain to find cloth for new clothes for her."

Gothel's face relaxes into a placated smile. "Yes. She is _very_ precious to me."

The lady's eyes open and, with a flash of lightning to give them their proper color, Gothel feels the blood drain out of her face.

Two very familiar pale green eyes, eyes as green as Spring, stare back at her. _Rapunzel?_ Gothel just barely stops herself from choking out. And the woman's cloak isn't dark blue; it's purple. A rich, deep shade of royal purple.

She recovers quickly. "Thank you, Madame." Gothel dips her head deferentially and barely manages to smile. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to make my way home before the storm grows worse."

No longer caring about the rain, Gothel steps out into the street and starts to make the journey towards the nearest inn, where green eyes can not search her out.

Gothel doesn't think she can stand under the same awning as a woman with her Rapunzel's eyes. Not if she's who she thinks she is.


End file.
